Delirium Trigger
by Kansas Kusuri
Summary: RikuRoxas fics: A collection of oneshots, as well as the history from the time of their first fight till the time of their last. [warning some chapters are excessively fauxartistic, and they're crap to boot.]
1. Spot Violence

Hey, Pit! This fic will consist of Riku/Roxas-- the chapters can be read as one-shots, or as a complete story-- though as a story, it won't read terribly smoothly. Each chapter, though, I intend to stand on it's own. Also, there will be very flagrant contradictions-- so don't call them out, they're deliberate. This whole thing is meant to be an experiment in style for me; so moods/themes might change as you go on. Also-- some chapters may be out of sequence. Just for fun. Last, these characters aren't mine. We knew that.

On this chapter-- ugh. Hugo can take 28 pages to describe _Le Parie_ but I can only get 337 words for the whole Dark City. I fail.

--

"One of those creatures calls itself Roxas. It's a Nobody that's stolen a piece of Sora-- get it back for me."

DiZ had expected Riku to complain, to ask why -- it was still in the boy's nature to be so inquisitive-- or to simply refuse, as was customary from this said Riku.

But all that Riku did was bite at an already-chewed lower lip, wonder briefly whether losing his soul was worth Sora, decide thus and still internally that Sora was worth _everything_, and summon a vortex to the Dark City. He left, so to say, without a word.

--

A moment, then, to describe said Dark City. It is Cold, and Cold above all else. It is perpetually raining, the lightest downfall a barely perceptible drizzle, the heaviest a terrible monsoon that seems to go on eternally, accompanied by bright white lighting and bass thunder. But always, through all the rain and storm, the place is Cold.

Cold, then, and what of the furniture? It is indeed a City, all steel and skyscraper. On occasion, a small, modest home can be glimpsed-- velvet curtains fuzzily reflected on warm yellow light. These misfit dwellings – their peers are iron and swaying and great – are a trap, as inside there is Warmth, to offset the Cold. But once one becomes Warmed, they find themselves reluctant to leave and so molder and die there in this house.

The skyscrapers themselves are intriguing. Neon gaudily lights their outsides, but their innards are frustratingly hidden from the casual observer – read, Riku, just for now! -- and resemble more then anything, the shallow sort of person who wears all of his identity upon his sleeve— or resemble, perhaps, the Nobody inhabitants of the awful Cold city. The symbolism is left to you, the _dear_ reader's, conjuncture.

What absolutely _dominates_ the City is the Castle. And this of course is fair. The Castle is beautiful in it's starkness and it's simplicity. It is great and powerful, a hundred million _thousand_ tons of rock and sheet resting gently and comfortably upon thin air. Below it, the towers are reverent-- the ground below them sinks downward, and the neon steel buildings spiral about and about and about until there is simply Nowhere else to go.

In fact-- the entire Dark City is a circle, great and endless. Steel and homes start somewhere, growing more and more tightly packed and becoming more and more obvious a spiral of sorts--

Riku on the edge remembers hearing that spirals are dangerous. Suck you in and never let go--

one that ends in Nothing below a Castle that means nothing. This is the City in it's simple entirety, though the Cold could never be properly conveyed.

--

It is VII, of course, that comes to Roxas. The Superior is far to busy doing nothing in particular to see his Thirteenth.

"There is an intruder,"

Four words could not have had any less of an impact upon the boy. "I don't care."

Saix frowns, but continues as if he had not been interrupted. "and you are to dispose of it."

"Why?" Roxas is still cold, but he gives his superior member the high honor of eye contact. "I don't want to. You do it."

"Me?" A sneer crosses Saix's face. "I'm far to strong to bother with something as pathetic as our visitor. It's for you, _XIII._" The number and rank is stressed and Roxas knows he must go. Unconscious of how he was leaving just as the intruder had left his own home, he left without a word.

--

Riku fucking _hates_ it here.

--

Roxas warps out to a point at random-- he's no idea where this miscreant could be, but that's alright. _All things in time, all things in time..._he thinks it's sort of funny that he learned that from Marluxia, whose _grandoise arrangements _never had time _nor_ a prayer.

--

It is hard to get lost in a circle if you're walking straight-- you will, eventually, come to the center. And so Riku on the move and Roxas drifting forward and about were quite doomed to run into each other.

They merely stared at the other for a while, faces blank. Then, tentative from Riku, "Sora?"

Roxas knew that name very well. Knew that it was his rearranged and x-less, that it was someone that was Someone. Knew everything about the name, but had no idea what or who, exactly, it meant. Or, more directly-- Roxas knew that he at once hated and loved, feared and cherished, that name Sora.

And so he just laughed, a harsh, cruel sound that rang about the steel towers and into Riku's ears. "I'm _not._ But no matter, who are _you?_"

Riku just shook his head, Soul Eater already in his hand. "You're Roxas, then. And I am...you figure it out for yourself."

"I don't care about your name." Roxas rejoined, Oathkeeper and Oblivion appearing familiar in his hands. "I was only trying to be polite, but clearly that was _lost on you!_" With those words he rushed at his opponent all at once and _holy but he's fast_ ran through Riku's mind.

Their battle was terribly real, each looking to quite honestly _kill_ the other. Soul Eater's dark blue grooves caught on and halted Oathkeeper's spiked top, but there was Oblivion coming in from the other side and all Riku could defend with was his arm. And it _hurt_.

_Sora, Sora, this was all for SORA._ Riku had to, _had_ to remember that. It wouldn't be fair to stop fighting this theif when Sora hadn't stopped fighting Ansem, that other thief. And this analogy made something very clear to Riku. If Ansem was the thief who stole all (or maybe just all the good) in Riku, then Roxas was a thief who'd stolen all of Sora.

In a word, Nobody.

"I know who you are," Riku hissed against his opponent's-- not the _boy's_, a weapon-made-real like Roxas was not so much a boy but a monster-- ear. "A shadow, a thief. Just what Sora ripped out of him that time, and nothing more."

"'Zhat so?" Roxas replied, a small smirk playing about his rain-soaked lips. "Sora is _me_, then? How boring, you've told me nothing new." His Keyblades crossed into an X over Riku's stomach, one hard shove and the human went first up, then was thrown far and _down._ This amused Roxas no small deal-- but _dammit_ if this person didn't get up and come _again._

"Persistant.." he sighed, but was surprised when Riku got behind him, and smirking himself, replied, "You've no idea." before neatly tripping Roxas off his feet. The Nobody fell hard to the ground. He still held Oathkeeper in his hand but as he had been startled, Oblivion had been dropped and skidded gracelessly into a puddle on the pavement.

And for the first time, Roxas _considered_ taking this fight seriously-- and decided to do just that if the stranger wouldn't stop _looking_ at him like that-- Riku's aqua eyes were condemning in the neonlight, saying that _Nobody can not live. You must be--_ must be _what_ Roxas wanted to know, sacrificed, killed..completed? He fancied he heard these things, and Riku _was_ thinking them-- though Riku also was thinking _what a sad creature. Did _I _look this pathetic when Ansem was in me?_

It was all of a sudden that Roxas recalled Oblivion and got up, charging it angrily (not as angrily as he supposed, however, as the boy couldn't, actually, feel anger) across Riku's chest.

The dark boy was hurt, yes, stunned by this sudden re-reversal. Roxas wastes no time in sliding about to see the boy's back – another of dead Marluxia's cliches, _Don't let your opponent see your back _ran smugly through dead-but-alive Roxas's mind – and, sneering as to make his Superior proud – drove the white, ornate, delicate Oathkeeper straight through Riku's side-- thrusting it through black leather, wet skin, warm blood, blind innards, again through soft skin and again through heavy leather and ripping it out the same, hoping sadistically that at least _something_ was torn.

When Riku screamed, Roxas gasped for breath and managed to recover himself, swaying a little, giggling as a now bloody Oathkeeper – _what oath – _swung down to point limply at the ground. Roxas is back in control, now, having only lost himself to blind misery for less then seventeen seconds. And now he is not sneering but smiling, an innocent child's smile. One that he was quite aware belonged to Sora.

"That was kind of fun, Riku kid. Maybe we'll play around later." And with that he warps back to the Castle in the spiral's non-heart.

--

"You have taken care of _it_, I presume?" Saix's voice is soft and deadly poison, but Roxas is immune.

"Of course. _Do_ tell Superior of what a good member I am." Roxas, this time, did not even bother to lift his eyes to Saix's face. He merely looked ahead, dragging Oathkeeper behind him and letting all the watery-pale blood dirty Oblivion's impeccable and hated white shine.

--

Of course Riku was not dead; and Roxas had known it. The dark boy put his gloved hands on the asphalt, and tried to lift himself up. He could not do it-- his hands and arms wobbled, once, before he crashed back down to the wet floor.

That was alright, he decided, tired. Let this freezing rain take care of him, he had _lost, _he had lost _Sora. _He could only go back to--

_NO I WON'T_

The loudness, the intensity of his own thought startled him and he blinked dumbly, acknowledging it as profusely as his tired body would allow. He wold _not_ go back to DiZ and the cold yellow eye and it's creeping disapproval. He would not let Naminé try her hardest to pretend to be worried, try so hard to _care_ when in fact she could not. It wasn't fair to oblige her to worry, and it would be terrible to look at DiZ, and worse, at Sora sleeping in a pureglass flower, without his missing piece to wake him.

_fine_ Riku whispered in return to that thought _stay here, then? here in the Cold-- yes, it's better then going _there. His lips twitched into what could perhaps of been a smile or maybe just revulsion. _i'll stay here, then, until I really have beaten that miserable Roxas._

And so Riku on the outskirts lost consciousness and Roxas in the middle didn't care, not yet.


	2. A Perfectly Normal Scene Of A Sort

And here's a part 2!

* * *

Now, gentle reader, please behold yourself to take this scene, with little alteration, as Roxas and Riku's normal-- one that played out many, many night but always in the Dark City. Picture it happening myriad times and then you can understand how Riku came to despair of seeing his Sora again.

Water and wet and dark, dark dream, is all the Dark City is. Riku wonders, sometimes, whose dream it is. Is it the old man's assistants, who dreamt this place into it's pseduo-being? Three are dead, if the other three die, will this dream of a city be forgotten and vanish away? It would be nice, were it Sora's dream, and when_ (if)_ Sora awakes, it all went away-- no shadows, no Shadows, just Sora awake and already forgotten the one world that isn't.

Riku knows that's foolish. Terrible dreams like this are not ended so easily. There is pain to feel and murder to be committed to end such a nightmare as this world. Riku knows, for how else did he awake from his own dark dream of power? Always violence to end the darkness.

"You _idiot._" Cold sneering voice and Riku smirks in it's direction. Speaking of _violence._

"Wouldn't it be nice, if Sora woke up and you disappeared...?" he asks lightly, mockingly.

Roxas does not deign to answer-- he attacks, and Riku defends, but barely. Both are injured; one can feel it. But of course, only that one can bleed.

Oathkeeper and Soul Eater.

"It's a paradox, don't you think? I'm here to keep a promise and it's you who destroy souls. But our weapons are inversed."

"Maybe it's dramatic irony." Roxas replies now, scoring an excellent blow to Riku's arm. "And it secretly means we'll die tonight, or that we're the same, really, or something equally pretentious and stupid."

They have fought before. Not often. Three times. Tonight is the forth. It's always a draw, because Riku falls first and Roxas makes as if to oblige this kid's _stupid lame useless_ deathwish, but then Riku cheats and uses pure darkness (the last weapon left, but it's _always_ there) to pull Roxas to the ground and Roxas won't tell but he'd never kill Riku anyway because who else would he call an _idiot_ and _useless_ if this boy was gone?

Then there is nothing, save Riku's harsh panting and the scritchscritchscrath of the Heartless's claws on rain-slicked asphalt-- they are always present, unwitting and uncaring voyeurs of what is always a real fight, no matter how routine the results have become.

But now, Riku forces himself upright and deliberates helping Roxas as well-- who settles the issue by standing himself, shaking off thick tendrils of dark-made-real as he rises. And then.

"It's raining." Roxas states the obvious, and walks, unconcerned and unguarded, as if the violence of the past twenty minutes has never occurred, to Riku, and he takes the other boy's hand. "Let's go in..there." a building is pointed to, selected at random. Always a different building, but there is always a room for them. "I'm cold, and you're boring to fight with when you're hurt."

Riku follows calmly, letting Roxas lead. "That's a lie, you don't find fighting interesting at all. You don't care about _anything,_ but for yourself, and you just didn't want to lose."

The skyscraper's interior is Dark. Riku feels more at home _here_ then he ever did on the Destiny Islands, and that saddens him.

Not that he'd show sadness or regret to Roxas, who would only laugh at him.

The stairs are a rickety square, going around and up and up and up the thick steel walls. They are dangerous to walk on; neither boy cares as they mount them. They are silent, not speaking, not yet.

The room they find is lit by a flickering neon-- everything here is neon, Riku thinks, and wonders if it matters-- bulb, the light weak and turning on and off on and off. There is a window and Memory's Skyscraper can be seen through it. Riku asked Roxas, once, what the screens were for. Roxas said he did not care. Riku sneered that _Sora_ would have cared, and Roxas sneered back that Sora was _dead._

(Regardless, Riku thinks he knows what the static patterns that flash erratically over the mess of screens is. It is the brain-wave of the dreamer, the science and practicality of the mind appearing even in this artistic and useless dream-mare of a world.)

"Oh, look what you've done to me." The carefully and falsely dismayed voice calls Riku away from his thoughts and back to the semi-reality of what is going on before him. He casually undoes his blindfold, letting the black silk sheath expose his eyes to the semi-lit room. He does not care if they turn traitor and lie-- there is no reason to pretend to be anything with a person who wasn't, actually, anything at all, and there is not much light in him to show anyway.

Roxas has removed his heavy black coat, and is examining a long, red-colored wound across his stomach. A wound? Riku laughs at this. A dent might be a better word-- it is not cut, and without blood, it can not bruise. Like a doll, who has been stepped on and pushed inward, and whose body will soon heal it's own self, pushing back out to become smooth and whole again. "What's funny?" Roxas snaps, still not-quite-annoyed.

"Nothing. Shall I kiss it to make it better?" Riku does not wait for permission, but pulls Roxas close to him and presses his lips to a mark that is already turning pink and returning to normal. It can be fucking _hard_ to break some dolls, Riku remembers.

"Get off. Do you people really do that, kiss to make it better? Stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"So unromantic, little Lo Haze." Riku replies, pressing another kiss to the mark, and thinking once again. He can call Roxas a nothing, say how and why Sora was the superior being, mock Roxas's lost memory and scorn his dark existence, and all Roxas will do is laugh and laugh, a sound that is unpleasantly false and harsh. These words do nothing to Roxas and he turns Riku's insult back on him (but ten times crueler) just to show how unaffected he is.

But, Riku muses, say something that Roxas doesn't _understand_ (and Roxas did not understand much, not a reference to a decades-old book, nor some kind deed or a forgiving word, not a gift, and certainly never joy) and the boy _would_ react with something almost angry.

And, predictably. "That name, again?" Roxas frowns, eyes narrowing. He pretends contempt and pushes Riku away from him. "_Stop_ calling me by it. In any case--" and his eyes light up, suddenly malicious-- "Aren't you hurt worse? Are you bleeding again? I _know_ I hurt you--"

Riku shrugs, and stands to pull Roxas more closely to him. "Does it matter? _Next_ time, I'll win--"

"And if there is no next time?"

The Nobody's voice, though, is not taunting. If it were, Riku would have sneered and said, _no, not if  
\you'd just accept the heart you've already got_ and not meant that at all. Instead, Roxas's voice is suddenly intense, worried, frightened, that of a small child scared to death. "What if the Darkness kills you? Or if I wake up one day and I'm _him_ and that's all I ever was or if I kill you instead, take your heart and.." Roxas is suddenly and urgently, is kissing Riku. It is rough and desperate but the older boy lets Roxas do as he wants.

And Riku thinks that it's incredibly sad, because Roxas is not looking for love, but something more-- he is looking for meaning in a life that wasn't, searching to see what Riku has that makes him _real_ and _alive_ and the other things things that Roxas _nevernevernevercould_ would be. Riku does not have the heart to tell this boy that there was only ever one Sora and that Roxas will only get what he is searching for when he finally gives up searching, and he is sad because no matter how frightened and child-like this Roxas acts and thinks that he _is_ -- Riku is certain that a small part of this Shadow's mind says that he _can_ feel and care and love, says that he can do something more then _want_-- it is, in the end, an act that was stolen from _and must be returned to_ Sora.

Abruptly, it is over. Roxas pulls away and his eyes are cynical and empty as they should be. He sits, casually, on the bed, and Riku joins him. They kiss again, but it is shallow and meaningless this time. "How long will you stay tonight?" asks Roxas, already bored or at least acting so. He falls back on the bed, looking calmly at the other. And he thinks of how they have not and how they will not sleep with each other, and realizes that he is not, quite, sure why that is.

(They have not even spoken of it-- if they had, both thought that it might sound like Roxas laughing coldly, saying how _pathetic_ Riku was to resist it; to think that sex anything important. Riku would smirk at this, hands idly twisting blonde hair about his fingers, and say that _this_ was why Roxas was worthless, that one who was so casual about sex would never understand love and so was not worth saving. Roxas, Roxas always had the final word, and it would be something like, _but I have no heart, so I've an_ excuse_ not to love. What is your excuse, then, for the lack of love in your heart?_, and there the conversation would end, and they _would_ do it and it would all be over. But this conversation—thought out, and ready to be had -- never did and never would happen.)

Riku knows why. Because sex would make it real. Make the dark, rainy dream disappear into a cold, unfeeling reality. If there was ever any proof that they had been in the city at all-- Riku's blood, washed away to non-existent gutters by non-existent rain, did not count-- then it would have to be erased, and to erase something, it must be real.

But Roxas was _not_ real, and, though it was a betrayal, an impediment to the worlds, Riku had no desire to _make_ Roxas real. Roxas would become real on his own, and that was the only justice Riku saw.

So Riku kisses the Nobody again, wishing that he could make Roxas understand that it was not Riku's heart he needs, but Sora's, and knowing that it's useless to try. All he can do is try to remind Roxas, again and again and again, that there _will_ be an ending, even if Riku is too weak and too almost-in-love to bring it about. "Only until _he's_ ready to stop dreaming."

Cold voice back. "What if that never happens?"

"Then forever."


	3. Stageglory, a Game

Stages are sexy :D

* * *

Catwalks are...

dangerous.

The Stage is his, and empty. It's soso new, and it smells so, new pine and steel and wool and paint. The lights are off, and the seats go on and on-- back and up and around. The place is beautiful.

But Riku can not appreciate it, not now. Roxas is here, somewhere, and they must fight--

he leaps back as the heavy curtain swings across the stage, thick, wine-red velvet crashing before him and shutting off The Stage and it's possibilities.

Roxas's giggle is giddy and amused, echoing down from _somewherewhere?_ "Come _out._" Riku snaps, annoyed with this chase.

"But I so _like _watching you search helplessly. And I can see _everything_ from up here."

He's up, then-- Riku looks to where the voice _might_ have come from, up into velvet-dark curtains, beams, and harsh, modern, metal spotlights. And he can see-- a catwalk. Of course. He extends his hand to create a portal, but--

"Ah, ah, ah. Aren't you only to play with that Dark when you absolutely _must?_ Take the stairs."

Stairs are spiraled, going up and up. No railing that Riku can see, but a cage about them makes them pseudo-safe. "Come and play, come and play." The coldly amused, wicked taunting voice is Riku's best initiative. He climbs.

Riku has always counted stairs as he climbs and now is no different-- _fiftyone, fiftytwo, fiftythree fiftyfour._ A vent is on the way up, the warm wind from it blowing almost lewdly up his neck. He looks down-- it is _very_ high but Riku is not afraid. _Well-- _he amends that-- _not yet._

Roxas is waiting-- the balustrade is _not_ so narrow as Riku had thought. But the metal is scored, and it does not look as though it will bear the weight of much more then a child (or a Roxas, but those were the same thing, really.)

He stays on the small landing, gaze contemptuous-- he has not yet found the lights in his eyes and so does not yet need a blindfold to douse them. "Found you, my dear little Phantom. Enough of this game."

"Game?" Roxas's face is wide and innocent and a lie. "But you only won because I helped you. Come _here."_

"I _won't."_

Roxas laughs, getting lightly to his feet. "You're not afraid, but you won't step out. You're _weird._ Come and play with me, you weird dark boy. Come and be rational with a Nothing-at-all."

Riku has no choice because Roxas's black-gloved hands find Riku's and pull him out. "You _see?_ See _everything."_ One side is a bracketed fence, taller then both boys-- Riku goes to it and, _there_ is a new and frightening perspective of the stage. Small and brightly-lit-- he wonders how long Roxas was watching him, how vulnerable he was...

"Could have killed you whenever." comes the answer, purred delicately in his ear as Roxas's arms go about Riku's waist, pushing him against the fence. The wire _hurts_ and it bends _so_ dangerously. "Stoppit." he mutters, and _now_ he's afraid-- it blooms, instinctive, deep in his stomach, spreading up through his mind.

"Yeah...you could fall. It could break...does that really worry you that much?"

These words are whispered curiously-- a Nobody trying to understand the human and so _basic_ emotion of fear. What causes it, why is it-- Riku hates how this Roxas _doesn't_ have to feel. Doesn't have to feel scared or alone or guilty like Riku does_ every fucking day._ Nasty heartless little _cheater._

Riku spins about, sudden strength, and slams himself and Roxas to the other side-- a waist-high fence, concrete stage wall behind it. Roxas _would be_ in no danger of falling-- this is where the wires and curtaincords are, thick and web-like. But the boy creates his own danger, leaning back precariously until he is no longer supported by the weak fence but only by the stagewires he holds tight in both hands.

He smirks at Riku, in a precarious position but oh so calm-- blue eyes cold as they always are and always will be. "Nothing."

"I let go--" Riku's grip on Roxas's waist mimicked an embrace-- "And you _will_ die."

"So do it." A challenge and a smirk from Roxas, but Riku shakes his head.

"Do you know why I won't?"

And suddenly bitterness crosses Roxas's face-- fake, maybe, but even Roxas believes in it. "Oh _yes._ Of course I know. You don't want the thief that stole half your Sora to die so easily. You want me to _suffer._ Want me to hurt, really hurt, before you drag me broken and useless before _him."_ His expression is both misery and defiance all at once. "But you know, Ri-_ku_--" the mocking emphases of his name was something Riku had come to associate with Roxas, along with rainstorms, too-harsh neon lights, cruelty, and now The Stage. "I won't be your sacrifice. Oh no, oh no. Not so easily, you _trust _me on that."

And suddenly-- the heavy wire _snaps_ and a secondary curtain _falls_-- the noise of the crashing velvet is tremendously loud and somehow ominous. Roxas skids backwards awkwardly, scrambling to grab hold of the railing, a cord, of anything. Not to fall not to fall and he _does_ feel something and fear _terrifies_ him.

Riku laughs.

"Poor, poor Roxas." He steadies the Nobody before going to lean against the wire-fence. It still scares him, but now there is something exciting in the fear. The adrenaline that comes from Darkpower swimming in one's veins is similar to the excitement. (_Fear is a primal emotion_ Riku thinks, illogically, but making sense to himself, at least _so it can only be enjoyed by the most debased, degraded and inhuman, is that it? Of course but it_ is _exciting._) "Everyone just wants to use you. If you _did_ die here, cut by wires or fallen to stageglory, no one would miss you. They'd miss their weapon or that part of Sora, but no one, no one, will ever miss Roxas."

"Except for..." Roxas has resumed his smirk and coldness, and it is only his small gasps, trying to get the air back into lungs that had no blood in them, that indicate he almost slipped and fell and _died._

Riku is startled, but then he laughs, sliding down the fence until he is sitting, looking up at Roxas. "Yes, my darling cruel XIII. I _would _miss you."

"I know." Roxas comes over to Riku, now, hands going to either side of Riku's head, fingers intertwining in and pushing against the wire. It is dangerous but Riku does not worry about it, not now. "You'll _always_ remember me. You'll see me in Sora, one day, won't you? Even if I'm not there at all."

"Does that mean.." Riku's lips ghost over Roxas's. "You finally understand? That you _won't_ die, that I'm the only one who wants to _help,_ not _use_ you?" There is of course a giggle at these words and Riku grins too. "Not yet, huh?"

"'S'impossible for that to be true. You're just lying again."

"In the end, all actors are just liars."

"And this love-act, is just a part of that lie?"

"That's right." They kiss, now, rough and uninhibited-- romance is not something Roxas understands nor something that Riku desires-- heedless of or maybe enjoying the danger that they're in.

"Ah, but Riku-- it's no lie that you love me, is it?"

"Of course not. I only wish it were."


	4. Aftermath of Violence

To regress a bit, now, to the immediate aftermath of the first fight--

Riku did not move from the pavement that he'd fallen on for a long, long while. He was barely conscious, registering that rain was beating down on his face and that he was terribly wounded, but unsure of everything else about him. But eventually, he came a bit more to himself and he _did_ remember that he had a potion, somewhere, on his person. His right arm-- it was the right side that had been wounded-- had long since gone numb, but he could use his other hand.

He brought the small glass bottle to trembling lips, but as it brushed against his mouth-- his left hand decided to turn traitor and lost it's own feelings. The little bottle shattered; he licked the green liquid greedily from the pavement, quickly, quickly, before it runs into the rain and disappears!

And the cure did help, some-- feeling came back into his hands, his legs, but the hole in his side stayed mercifully frozen. He stumbled upright-- tottered, wavered, clutched at a streetsign to break his fall-- but he didn't go down again. Now then...a ghost of a smile flitted across his face. All alone and nowhere to go.

Ahead of him-- warm lights in the window of a small house, but then the harsh neon and black window eyes of the skyscraper. Which, where, because both were preferable to DiZ and a witch and mocking laughter.

He didn't deserve the house, he decided. He remembered-- looking in, to where Sora and Donald and Goofy are so-happy, and being to stubborn to join them, instead believing Maleficent's lies. Warm, safe homes are not for sinners who threw them away. The tower.

He walked-- lurched, really, the portion had not healed the wound, only killed the pain-- to it. A revolving door. But of course-- this place _was_ just like a real world. So it should have ordinary doors.

Going through it-- the room was cast in a grey light, neon patterns dancing in the mirrors. It was a lobby, he saw-- there was a desk, but it looked very old, as if touching it would cause it to crumble. Heartless desks. Secretaries turned into Nobodies and the desk's skeleton was left behind to die. Riku laughs aloud at his own delirious thoughts. The whole of the lobby was furnished the same-- small tables, arm chairs, all blackgreywhite. There was a place for an elevator, but there was only a gaping hole between the doors. Riku would look at it later, he decided-- first, he had to heal. Before Roxas came back. For Sora. Had to heal. He took the stairs.

Up and up until the forth floor. There was a long hallway, as on the other two he'd passed-- he stopped only because he could see an open door. Yes, perfect, because he didn't think he had quite the drive to turn a doorknob.

The room was simple. A filthy unmade double bed in the center of an icecold room. Riku stumbled to it, and the door swung shut on it's own. He didn't care-- because upon closer inspection, there were _bandages!_ They were in the middle of the bed, alongside a larger draft of potion. So let's see. Potion first, numb the pain-- and this one, was he was drinking it and not merely scrabbling for it-- restored his feeling and coordination wonderfully. Now to check the wound. He removed leather gloves and unzipped the black coat-- uniform of the enemy, Roxas that traitor-- to survey the damage.

It was disgusting, of course. The hole was gaping and bloody-- he touched it gently, curiously, and was quite sure that _that_ was the small intestine he saw there. But it was not in his stomach-- really, really, off to the side. From what he could see, and what he could dimly recall from anatomy studies in another world, nothing _vital_ was severed. Only what would hurt the most. Alright. Bandages, next, though he wished the hotel had a sense of sanitation-- disinfectant would have been most appreciated, to take out the flecks of gravel and dirt that had mixed in with the blood and his insides. But something was better then nothing, so cloth bandages went around and around till he was quite sure that nothing would fall out and utterly doubtful that this procedure would do anything at all.

This done, he laid back. The pillow was dirty and he could smell it-- it was saturated in Darkness and human odor. But the scent was not enough to choke on, and besides, the thing was soft. Now, to review, to really remember--

But what was there to analyze? Roxas had won, that was all. And Roxas would come back. Riku closed his eyes, and pulled the torn blanket over him-- but it was still just as cold inside and under the blanket then outside in the rain. Roxas would come back so Riku would wait.

--

"Axel."

VIII looked up from the book he'd been reading. "Roxas? What?"

The blonde boy shrugged, and sat next to his friend casually. "Found you."

"You're special."

"Why aren't you in your room? You hate the library, I thought."

"The _idiot_ IX won't shut up, and the walls are far too thin. I won't go near my room, my love."

Ah, Roxas thought, and poor Demyx-- childish still, and he tried his hardest to believe that he had a heart. But the Nocturne murdered for the Organization and would do it again, justifying his victims as those that 'deserved' it, that _they_ were the evil ones. And when hypocrisy became to much, Demyx would take play his sitar in his room and sing like he must have in another life, when murder was wrong and feelings mattered. Demyx made Roxas rather want to be sad, but Heartlessness wouldn't allow that. It did allow for irritation, though.

"So you should have been in my room. I don't _like_ having to look for you."

"Oh, princess, how sad I am to displease you." Axel put the book he'd been flipping through down-- Roxas raised an eyebrow when he recognized dead Larxene's du Sade novel-- and stood, pulling Roxas up off the couch. "So, did you do it?"

Missions in the Organization were no secret, of course, so Roxas was not surprised. "Of course not."

Neither was Axel surprised, but that was because his empty soul didn't allow it. "Why not? Riku's worthless, now that Oblivion is done with-- you silly boy," his tone was disapproving, his eyes were amused, and both Nobodies knew that none of it meant anything. "if he came here, then it means he's got some plan, and we don't _want_ the good guys to be planning."

"I don't want him to die so soon, Axel. I think he's a bit cute, and I want to play with him. Keep him around for myself-- if he gets dangerous, I'll kill him, but he _won't _do that."

The redhead shrugged. "I _saw_ him at Oblivion. He's quite motivated, you know. He'll do anything to get what he wants--"

"But, does he not want Sora?" Roxas asked, lightly. "And I'm Sora, just better."

"You're an arrogant prick." was Axel's reply as they came to Roxas's chambers. "And honestly, I think you're quite ugly."

"Says the one with tear-shaped tattoos. I'm going to sleep, I don't care what you do."

"Pity, and here I thought I'd have sex tonight." But the redhead simply laid on his friend's bed, watching as the smaller Nobody stripped off his coat. "I played with dear Vex's Replica a bit, you know. Poor little thing, Real Riku killed him right off."

"Is this a warning?"

"He'd kill his someone with his own face-- don't you think that's interesting? But of course it's no warning, you dumb kid, it's an observation. I wouldn't care if you were killed by him; I'd deny ever knowing that he was alive."

"He's not _that_ interesting." Roxas was not sure what Axel was trying to say, but that was fine-- he rarely knew and never cared what his friend said. They were friends out of common selfishness, after all-- they each held themselves at the very, very highest. Not that Axel wouldn't have been missed had he died in Oblivion and not that Roxas wasn't the only one Axel liked-- but their own desires were much more pressing then their friend's. "I'm sure I'll be bored of him in a few months, or he'll be dead by then anyway. Let's not speak of it-- I'm tired."

Axel who loved the last word laughed at that. "You're never tired. You just don't want to defend your shitty choices."

--

When Riku awoke, he realized that he had never, never been more alone-- and that something very important was _missing._ What oh what oh who could it be? But then he laughed. Riku didn't have anything at all, so there was nothing he could have lost. He laid back on the dirty bed and wondered when he'd next see Roxas.

--

"He's not coming back tonight." Naminé explained, calmly. "And maybe he'll never come back again."

DiZ nodded. There were more important things then a sad dark boy to worry about. "Continue with Sora."

She goes back upstairs, to her white room, and wishes she could feel enough to be worried, not just pitying. But she is certain that Sora's (and her) best friend will turn up again but later (and different)-- being Nobody, one does not have to question what one knows for what one feels.


	5. Motion, The End

* * *

_Roxas! To the mansion!_

A command, and the shadow of a Nobody sneers contempt. Telling a member of the Thirteenth Order to do something for another? Ah, but...Roxas surveys his hands, calloused not from the Keyblade and war, but from playground games and plastic weapons. _Oh, how the mighty have fallen..._ He scowls, looks at frozen Axel -- surreal -- but time has stopped. Time _is_ motion, Roxas sees. Maybe if he stood in place, not blinking or breathing or _anything_, it would all stop and he won't die after all.

That's ridiculous. And he's ready as he'll ever be for death, he tells himself firmly. He looks at Axel again, helpless, trapped, oblivious, same as Roxas, really, before he takes off running for the broken old house with it's pretty locked doors and unholy secrets.

He runs _faster and faster_, and strength escapes him. _But not ever my will_ he reminds himself. _I don't care about vanishing._ His breath is coming hard, now, ragged and labored and harsh. The forest goes on and on, a maze of pitch-covered trees, thrown-out popsicle sticks, and silvery white monsters. Dusks. He used to command them, right? Right? They're calling him to quit, to take the coward's road, to run away to the Darkness where time doesn't matter.

No. He won't quit on Sora again. He's got _some_ dignity left and _they_ are watching. He is sweating, he is panting, he is careless and his sneaker catches on an exposed tree root-

he trips and falls, sprawling full-length before the mansion's locked wrought-iron gate. The wet ground, filthy mud, is cool against his cheek and he doesn't move for a long while. Till maybe time really _has_ stopped and I'll lay here and die just short of Sora.

He can't feel, he knows. But he just doesn't _want_ to die. Not yet. Please, not yet. He wanted to die on his own terms and he got ready for it before, he thinks he maybe remembers. But the chance was taken away, initiative forgotten. He's gotten quite used to living, he rather liked it, thank you, sir. You had your chance to Sora me, and now it's gone.

He can see _him_ out of the corner of his eye. Of course.

"You..." he almost growls, trying not to show frustration he's sure he can't really feel. "Help me."

The hood moves left to right, twice, and says an empathetic **no.** Roxas's teeth grind together, before he spits it out again, "_Help_ me." But there is no response. So the boy-- Nobody!-- puts his hands in the mud and starts to lift himself anyway. Fine. Fuck him.

Riku moves from the gate to directly in front of Roxas, crouching down, and Roxas can see that face-- "_Ohhhh!_" He screams aloud, hands shaking, shooting out and dropping him back on the muddy ground. Dignity is forgotten as memory takes over and invades _all_-- Fight, fight, faster, faster, he's betrayed me I'll kill him just want to see Sora, just want to see..victory! No, no, something's wrong, what's happening, he's screaming, his face, oh no oh shit his face- contorts, lengthens, darkens, STOP! "Stop.." he moans as the memory fades, tasting dirt against his mouth, in his mouth, now.

"You did that to me, you know." The voice is too low, sinister, not at all the insecure, lost refugee from the dark that Roxas had thought he might have loved. "I changed for you. How was I to know that it was _that time_ you were going to go to Sora?"

"Coulda talked to me..." Roxas is not sure that he knows quite what Riku is talking about. The memory is coming back fast, but not enough. Riku was changing because, because...something about it's his fault, that's what the other's saying now. It probably is, but he remembers thinking _I'm going to find out about the Keyblade_, cutting a redhead off and walking away, and being fucking pissed that Riku was getting in his way _now_ of all idiotic times. "You should have asked." Speaking seems stupid to him. There's nothing left to _say._

Riku seems to agree, face hidden again by the folds of the hood. Roxas is quietly grateful for this. It makes Riku's change and his face more abstract, a dream that Sora would soon be forgetting.

The boy -- man? monster? -- stands again, seemingly satisfied with seeing his lover/enemy on the ground. Roxas closes his eyes. Getting ready to go. It won't be bad, just, it's hard to stand and he can't wait for it to be _over_-- when he's sure time's all but stopped for him as well--

blue eyes open to see a gloved hand pro-offered to him. He almost laughs and lets himself be pulled up. Helping me now? So lame, mean what you say if you please. But -- there. Strength is returning, already. Unexpected kindness and he suddenly gets the idea that -- _it's not to die! It's to be whole and alive and maybe with_ him_ again._ And he _knew_ this, it was there with all the other memories that were _just below_ his conscious thoughts. He laughs, and Riku seems to understand. "You're ready?"

Roxas smiles at the other, briefly, before he starts through the gates. Yeah, and it's time, moving forward again. He won't hesitate again.


	6. Replay, Ponderondy

It has been maybe a month since Riku lost the first fight. He's taken up living in the Dark City, skulking in the shadows and trying to ready himself to accept _that man's_ darkness again.

Roxas has made it so much easier.

When the Nobody defeated Riku, he'd had the boy at his mercy. But all he'd done was push Oathkeeper, gently, against Riku's throat, before shaking his head and letting the weapon go. "Who are you?" he'd asked simply, blue eyes passive and bored. "Why did you come here?" 

Usual questions, and both knew that Riku wouldn't answer them. The silver-haired boy scrabbled up, gripping onto soaked, rough asphalt for purchase.

He was grinning. "Not telling." he answered, aqua eyes cynically amused-- unsurprised at his defeat. Then, addressing someone else entirely, someone not there at all-- "Sora, you're so much stronger now."

Roxas's mouth twisted into an unreadable expression. No, wrong, Riku corrected himself. There was no emotion. He was right-- Roxas was simply reacting to another's name. It sounded crude and ugly and alive and terribly distasteful to him. "Who are you?" he repeated, meaning it this time.

Riku made to stand up, and Oathkeeper,instantly remade, was at his throat. "Why does it matter?" he asked, then thought for a second. "Though I'm surprised that you don't recognize me."

"A traitor." was Roxas's immediate-- and somewhat amused-- reply. "That's all I remember of you.." His voice was cold and cynical and nothing like Sora's, not really, not at all.

Riku moved all at once-- his gloved hand had grabbed onto Roxas's Keyblade, pushed it back just for long enough to rip a hole into the darkness. Roxas didn't hesitate to swing the sword at Riku's head-- but-- the other boy had already escaped into the depths of the city.

It was a few days (An approximation at best. Time wasn't really important in a world where it was always night.) before Roxas found him. Riku wasn't surprised. He was surprised when the Nobody put his arms-- almost _childishly_, almost _shyly_-- about him and demanded that he stay quiet for just a moment.

"Do you want me?" Roxas had asked after a short while, face turned up inquiringly to meet Riku's.

Riku thought about lying. Changed his mind. The damned Nobody would see right through anything Riku made up-- his traitor eyes. "Not you." he said finally. "Never you. Your _other_ side."

"His name is Sora and we're the same." Roxas had whispered, moving his arms about Riku's neck. "Except that I'm dark where he's light. You _belong_ with me, you know."

Riku _did_ try to pull away, really, he did, but the Nobody had been terribly curious about this stranger and didn't think he'd let him go just yet. His fingers had intertwined gently with Riku's hair, and were tugging just enough to remind the silver-haired boy of who had won before. "He doesn't want you because you're a traitor."

"So you said."

"Because that's all I remember of you. Not even your name. Just that you chose darkness and he chose light and that makes you an awful monster."

That all seemed right so far. "I still love him. Do you understand?"

"No." Roxas had said promptly. "You should love me. I'm the dark side. You can touch me and not dirty me-- not like Sora. You'll sully his light if you take him. Besides, he has that girl already, doesn't he? Forget about him. I like you. Play in the darkness with us-- it's where you're best." He'd given the other boy a kiss-- gentle, fragile, play-acting to show Riku what could be truth. "Why control it, why keep it away? You use it, you'll be stronger then me. No, not me. You'll be stronger then _him_, and isn't that how it's _supposed_ to be?"

Roxas moved back, then, falling on the filthy, ancient bed and pulling Riku on top of him. And he had been pleased to see his smirk reflected on Riku's face. "Sleep with me. You'll see which one you want."   
Heady with slick darkness-- the air, damn it, it was in the _air_ and in his heart and there was no way to keep it at bay-- and already losing memories of Sora, Riku did just that.

It had hardly been making love-- it was only Riku's empty passion and broken dreams, or maybe only Roxas's insatiable, desperate need to know- to know who, or maybe why, this boy was, to know why Sora still trusted him and why he was afraid to lose himself when there shouldn't be anything to lose. But it had been enough for then and they'd taken what they could.

Now, though, Riku reflects, drawing a hand across Roxas's sleeping face all-this-time later. They didn't have anything at all. Still don't. Not what they were looking for and certainly no _control_ over the other. They're hurting each other; Riku will stop it.

And so he draws it, this single strip of black silk, across his eyes. He's hoping-doubting that this self-imposed restraint will make it so that his pretty, violent, never-quite-real Roxas will never suspect that _this_ fight will be the last one and that _this_ time, the real Darkness will take over, until it is too late. And he prays that he'll be able to lie to himself for long enough to convince the others all and maybe himself that it's still Sora he's trying to save.


	7. Made Of These, Who Am I To Disagree?

* * *

"Will you please. Stop." 

Broken glass out the window broken glass in Heartless heads.

"You're not doing anything. I'm not bothering you."

Bad excuses. He's _very_ busy.

"I'm counting to a hundred."

Broken glass stops it's breaking.

"What are you _talking_ about?"

Roxas doesn't get it, Riku reminds himself. But Roxas is so loud, even with out the glass, and it makes Riku lose count. Was it fifty-eight or sixty-eight...no, damn it, he's got to start all over again. He's _not_ pleased.

"Count to a hundred every night and then there won't be any dreams."

Nobody stops it's breathing and for a moment Riku thinks that _good,I shut him up, it's going to be quiet._

"What are you dreaming?"

Roxas's voice is sugar-sweet and candied soft. Oh fuck. Shouldn't have said anything about it. Making Roxas mad was fun but he was tired-tired-tired and he didn't want to _deal_ with it all again.

"What are you dreaming?"

When Riku doesn't answer Roxas hooks his fingers in the unguarded silver hair and pulls back, forcing his doll's eyes underneath his own.

"Tell me what you're dreaming," Roxas ordered it, now, a spoiled child with a disobedient pet. A child rich enough to kill his pet and find a new one if the first one wouldn't do _as it was fucking told._

So Riku told the truth. "About the islands. About going home. About how they'll see me there on the beach and they'll be angry for killing all their children and how they'll bludgeon me to death while Ansem stands in the back and laughs."

Roxas's china-blue eyes follow Riku's lying ones, but there's no deceit _this time._

"That's a nightmare. Isn't it?"

"I don't know. If I want it to be. And I don't want it to be. I want it to stop."

"I don't like it when you dream." Roxas reminded him. And made the subject himself again. "It means you're not here. Means you're running away from reality and you're running away from _me._"

Riku is honestly confused. He's tired, but he decideds to ask, just for the hell of it. "So shouldn't you not like me sleeping?"

"Sleeping and dreams aren't the same." Roxas shook his head, but now an absent smile crept across his face. "Sleeping, I can wake you up and you're _mine_ again—" he kissed Riku's mouth, to prove his claim. "Dreaming, I wake you and you're with whoever was with you in Dream. That could be anyone. And I won't have it."

Riku didn't see. Didn't see that there was still broken glass in Roxas's hands.

He pretends like he had thought over Roxas's nonsense words. "Then let me count. And I won't dream."

"That's not real. It's just a child's thought, counting." Riku had dreaded knowing that. Too late now, he thinks. "Don't you love me?"

Riku looks balefully into Roxas's face, before trying to get his hair untangled so he can just go to sleep and sleep dreamlessly. "I do."

It was late and he was tired, and maybe his eyes had just shown the marbley blue glass ones something amiss. A fistful of glass shards against his temple and he wasn't asleep, but at least he wasn't dreaming.

Roxas stares at bloody Riku, bloody hand, bloody sparkly shards of glass. Riku's just _out_ for a while. He'll wake up fresh and bright and devoted, Roxas thinks. And Riku's nicer _quiet._

Broken glass out broken windows through broken heads, zash zash zash. Roxas doesn't bother sleeping because he knows that he won't dream.


End file.
